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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297760">The Circle of Seven Stones: A Tale by James Fraser</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC10/pseuds/JRC10'>JRC10</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Tales of James Fraser [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander &amp; Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Worship, F/M, Story within a Story, Valentine's Day, fable</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:54:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC10/pseuds/JRC10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="https://imgbb.com"></a>
  <br/>
  
</p>
<p> Jamie is surprising Claire with another fantastical tale, but this time it's for Valentine's Day.  He wants to show his wife just what she means to him while doting on every little piece of her body, mind, heart, and soul.  This is a story within a story that Jamie strings together from his Pagan-Catholic roots and his deep understanding of his wife and all the multifaceted layers of her identity.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Tales of James Fraser [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Bring Thee Proof</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you all for reading.  Please approach this tale as you would an old fable.  Like 1000 ships was a tale of all the Jamies, this one is a tale of all the Claires.  This isn't told with the same foolishness as the first tale in the series.  This is meant to be meaningful and sensual.  Happy Valentine's Day.  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Candles...perfume...music...a winter posy of pine, pomes, and holly.  All you need is some chocolate, and you’ll have yourself a traditional twentieth century Valentine’s Day,” said Claire.</p>
<p>“Ye think Bree will be pleased?” said Roger.</p>
<p>“What’s not to like?”  Claire packed all the little gifts into the basket and handed it to Roger.  “Do you need us to watch the children for you?”</p>
<p>“No.  Lizzy said she’d take care of them.  Besides,” Roger turned to smile at Jamie, “I’m sure ye’ll have yer own plans for the evening.”</p>
<p>Claire snorted, laughing a little too heartily at Roger’s assumption.  “Oh indeed.  I’m sure Jamie will regale me with some romantic tale or other of Saint Valentine and his bloody imprisonment.”</p>
<p>Jamie raised an affronted brow.  “You seem to like my stories well enough when I’m telling them, Sassenach.”</p>
<p>“Of course I do, darling,” she placated, patting his cheek.</p>
<p>“I can’t thank ye enough, Claire,” said Roger.  “Bringing a little of the twentieth century to Bree always makes her smile.”</p>
<p>“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, walking Roger Mac to the door.</p>
<p>When Roger was gone, Jamie watched his wife tidy up what was left of her candles and perfumes, mumbling to herself about needing to check on the beehives in the morning.</p>
<p>“Sassenach?” </p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“Ye dinna care to have a St. Valentine's romance like Roger and Bree, do ye?”</p>
<p>“If we were in the twentieth century, I’d most certainly expect it, but we’re not.  Besides you’ve never been much for celebrating a holiday—aside from Hogmanay—especially one as frivolous as Valentine’s Day.”</p>
<p>“John has spoken of this increasing St. Valentine’s Day foolishness in England...presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending notes.  Why must they wait for a celebration of a long dead saint to honor their beloved?”</p>
<p>“It’s just a tradition.  Like Hogmanay.  But instead of celebrating a new year, Valentine’s Day is a celebration between lovers.”</p>
<p>“Are there no’ better ways to celebrate love than wi’ trifling gifts?”</p>
<p>“There doesn’t need to be an exchange of gifts.  The most important thing is to ensure your love knows the depth of your affection.  You can do so with gifts, or acts of service, or affection.  Some even write sweet sonnets or pretty verses.”</p>
<p>Jamie scratched his beard, his mind racing with possibilities.</p>
<p>“I don’t need a Valentine’s Day celebration, Jamie.  As you said, you are quite apt to honor your beloved regularly, even on the most mundane of days.”</p>
<p>“And what if I should be the one to require a pretty verse from you, Sassenach?” he teased.</p>
<p>She scoffed, “Then you married the wrong woman.  I have no mind for creating rhymes.”</p>
<p>He grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her.  His mouth hovered inches from hers, lips nearly touching.  “But is it no’ St. Valentine’s Day?  Doesna tradition require?”</p>
<p>She smiled sweetly and lifted on her toes to offer him a kiss.  “Alright then.  How about this: </p>
<p><em> “That I did always love </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I bring thee Proof </em> <em><br/></em> <em> That till I loved </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I never lived—Enough— </em></p>
<p><em> That I shall love alway— </em> <em><br/></em> <em> I argue thee </em><br/><em> That love is life— </em> <em><br/>And life hath Immortality—”</em></p>
<p>“’Tis lovely, <em> mo ghraidh,</em>” he laughed.  “Who wrote it?”</p>
<p>“How do you know I wasn’t inspired by your affections to come up with it myself?”</p>
<p>“Because I ken my wife, and I ken yer tongue is more prone to make poetry by licking my body than wi’ lyrics.”</p>
<p>As if to demonstrate his point, she licked his cheek, tongue rubbing against his three-day scruff.  He chuckled deep in his chest and kissed her thoroughly.</p>
<p>“Fine,” she admitted, “it was Emily Dickinson.  She’ll be born in America about fifty years from now.”</p>
<p>“’Twas beautiful.”  He kissed her again.  This time he spoke seriously, “Ye ken I love ye, <em> mo ghraidh</em>? And as yer poem says, I have no life without you.”</p>
<p>Her eyes grew tender, and she nodded softly.</p>
<p>“Have I ever told ye <em> why </em> it is I love ye?  Why I can say the words and mean it wi’ my whole heart?”</p>
<p>“You’ve shared a number of those reasons in our years together, but if you’ve come up with anything new, I’d be delighted to hear.  Some of the old reasons could also bear repeating now and again.”  </p>
<p>He nodded, considering.  “Perhaps I shall have another story for ye tonight, my Sassenach, to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day.”  He placed a gentle kiss on her nose. </p>
<p>“Another story?  More sperms?”</p>
<p>“No.  I’d be a fool to make light of a lovers’ special day to my own beloved.”</p>
<p>“Smart man.”  Her eyes were alight with anticipation.  “What do you have up your sleeve, James Fraser?”</p>
<p>“I mean to tell ye just what ye mean to me, <em> mo chridhe</em>.  I mean to tell ye...<em>that I did always love</em>...and that <em> I will bring thee proof.</em>”</p>
<p>“Mmmm.  Perhaps I shouldn’t put my perfumes away just yet?  Shall I find one suitable for the occasion?” </p>
<p>“No.  Come to bed after supper...just as you are.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Life of a Stone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a href="https://imgbb.com"></a><br/>    <br/>  </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The candlelight becomes ye, Sassenach.”  The flame flickered warm light over her skin as her shift fell to the floor.</p><p>“May I ask why your story requires my nudity?” she spoke humorously, though didn’t put up any resistance.</p><p>“Weel,” Jamie pulled off his shirt and hung it over the back of the chair, “this tale is no’ just told wi’ words.”  He unbuckled his belt and removed his kilt, tossing them aside.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>He stepped in close to his beautiful wife, letting their skin touch lightly.  “It will require the use of my hands…” he placed them on her cheeks, “...my lips…” he kissed her softly, “...and a few other pieces and parts.”</p><p>“But no sperms?”</p><p>“No promises, Sassenach.”  He swatted her bottom.  “Now go lay down.”</p><p>She rubbed her nose playfully against his before following his direction.  She lay flat on the bed, naked save the flickering shadows and firelight.  He stood over her, staring and admiring. </p><p>“God, Christ, I love every bit of ye,” he moaned.</p><p>She was biting her lip, eyes hooded and dark with want, watching him watch her.  He pulled his cock left and right in a vain attempt to soothe his building ache.</p><p>He forced himself to focus on the task at hand.  He had a purpose tonight, and he couldn’t allow carnal desire to interfere with his plan.  Chastity was a heavenly virtue, after all...so was patience.</p><p>He slid on the bed next to Claire, laying on his side to face her.  “Close yer eyes, <em> mo nighean donn</em>.”  He ran a finger gently over her lids.  “And dinna move a muscle...</p><p>“Our story begins in a grand castle in Scotland wi’ a powerful and wretched Laird…”</p><p> </p><p>*****************</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> James Fraser was an arrogant, depraved wretch of a man.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was born from the union of a beloved Laird who brought wealth and prosperity to his people and a beautiful, kind lady, esteemed by all.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He led a charmed and happy life, doted on by villagers and visitors alike.  All the children in the Highlands loved him, feeding off his joy and enthusiasm.  Even the strange little girl who lived near the dun would light up when he came to call, picking him wild berries and flowers to take home to his family. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sadly, Jamie’s mother died before he grew into a man.  The loss was devastating to the whole clan, and it wrecked young Jamie.  Caught up in own grief and pain, Jamie’s father spoiled him rotten, fearful of causing his son any more pain than he’d already suffered.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His mother’s death and father’s indulgence did Jamie no favors.  He grew cold and hard, selfish and entitled.  He eased his pain with indulgence and had no desire for self-control or temperance.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And when his father died, the young man’s heart hardened further, draining away the last of any goodness he had left.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> James took the fortune his father left him and built an immense castle as a monument to his own grandeur.  And in that castle, he held the most magnificent gatherings to display his wealth and self-importance for all the other clan leaders to defer and admire.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He filled his tables with the livestock of his people, even as he demanded higher coin for their rents.  His people were too fearful of his mighty wrath to refuse his unreasonable demands—no little number of clansmen had met their demise at the point of his blade for their resistance.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had not yet married, unable to find the perfect wife worthy enough to bear his heir, but that did not stop him from bedding any lass that suited his fancy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One night at one of his famed gatherings, he overheard a young woman talk of a new castle that was recently built in the northernmost part of the Highlands.  “’Tis the largest castle I’ve e’er seen!  It has seven grand stone towers around its edge, and thrumming music fills the halls on the nights of the great equinox and solstice festivals!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What is this ye say?” said James, his eyes flaring in frustrated disbelief.  “I’ve no’ heard of such a castle.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman shrank back.  She hadn’t realized he was listening in on their conversation.  “Oh, ’tis naught to yer castle, my Laird.  Only something to attract the fancy of the farmers and children and such.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A bland looking thing, to be sure, my Laird,” someone else chimed in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Small, from what I could tell.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It was only five towers, come to think of it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Three by my eye.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> James allowed the people to placate him, knowing it was impossible for a castle grander than his own to be built in such a short time.  The Laird shrugged off the rumors as the foolish gossip of simple folk.  He rejoined the festivities, consuming all the food and drink he could stomach. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he was hunting down a lass or two to end the evening with, he overheard talk yet again of this mysterious northern castle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Seven grand towers that reach up into the clouds.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Glittering gemstones in the very walls.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Inhabited by a beautiful Lady wi’ more riches than the Highlands have ever seen.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> James hunted down more whisky, a jealous rage burning deep in his belly at the thought of another in the Highlands having something grander than him.  As he poured another glass, he heard more talk of the mysterious castle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The closer I rode toward it, the more the fog obscured the path.  I found myself turned ‘round no matter how hard I tried to come close.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps we should attempt to visit when it’s raining so there willna be any fog to stand in our way.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> James grew livid with the increased chatter taking place in the middle of his own marvelous gathering.  When he finally had enough, he lashed out at the roomful of terrified guests, “Get out!  Get out, you ungrateful swine!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sent them all away in the middle of the night during a dark and violent storm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In a vain attempt to calm his agitation, he allowed three beautiful lasses to stay with him to ease his wounded pride… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>*****************</p><p> </p><p>“Three?” Claire peeked out of the side of her eye at her husband.  “The Laird James Fraser needed <em> three </em> women to ease his wounded pride?”</p><p>“He’s a filthy lecher, <em> mo ghraidh. </em> Now close yer eyes, and let me get on wi’ the tale.”</p><p>“Indeed he is.  I hope his future wife is just as filthy and lecherous, needing multiple lovers to fill her needs until the time comes they should marry.”</p><p>“Aye, the lady may likely require more than just three wi’ <em> her </em>appetite.”</p><p>She smacked him on the leg in admonishment. “This is a strange tale to share on Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>He chuckled quietly.  “Be patient, Sassenach.  We've only just started.  Now, where was I before ye rudely interrupted?”</p><p> </p><p>*****************</p><p> </p><p><em> In a vain attempt to calm his agitation, he allowed three beautiful lasses—</em>yes three, Sassenach—<em>to stay with him that night to ease his wounded pride, but it still was not enough to settle the restlessness growing in his heart. </em></p><p>
  <em> He didn’t sleep.  He tossed and he turned and he raged that someone would dare attempt to build something grander than his home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So that morning, he donned his shield and blade and rode out north to find this mystical castle, eager to meet the stranger who built it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It took days to reach the northernmost point of Scotland.  It was cold and wet and uncomfortable for a Laird who’d grown accustomed to all the luxuries of life.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Early in the morning on the third day of his excursion, he caught sight of a structure far in the distance.  It took hours of riding in the rain to close the gap enough to see the distinct features of the castle.  Those that had spoken of it at his gathering had not exaggerated its magnificence.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It sat high atop a large hill, surrounded by a boggy moor.  Seven immense towers rose up in a circle, disappearing high into the clouds.  They were connected by a curtain of stone walls that glittered with a rainbow of gemstones embedded in the mortar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The closer he came to the castle, the more fog rose up around him, making it ever harder to see where he was going.  For some time, he was concerned that he—like the others that came before him—would be turned around before finding his way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That fear, however, proved false.  The fog seemed to be leading right to the front door.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The closer he came, the slower he rode.  An ominous feeling of dread grabbed hold of his spine even as his eyes were hypnotized by the precious gems.  All logic and reason told him to go back and pretend he never set eyes on the castle, but like a moth to a flame, he was helpless in his ability to turn away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was surprised to find the portcullis open, not a guard nor servant in sight.  A strange thing, for certain, in a place built with the treasure of kings.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A heavy layer of fog covered the grounds of the bailey.  And though twilight had overtaken the skies, the glitter of gems never ceased to shine.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His heart hammered wildly as he dismounted his horse and tied him up outside the front door of the keep.  Slowly, he stepped over the threshold.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Earthy scents of herbs and plants lingered in the air.  Echoes of his footsteps bounced off the stone walls, dancing high up in the rafters in the entrance hall.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He made his way into a great room that could befit a gathering of a thousand clansmen, but the room was completely empty of both people and furniture.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Seven slabs of rugged stone stood in a circle in the middle of the room.  James edged closer, eyes transfixed on what sat atop each stone.  The largest gems he’d ever seen lay on top of each one, casting brilliant fractals of light all over the walls.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Diamond, emerald, ruby, sapphire, amethyst, citrine, and opal.  Just one of those gems could build him an entire castle all on it’s own.  All seven of them would make him as rich as a king.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He proceeded into the center of the circle, not knowing if the loud buzzing was coming from his heart or from the stones themselves.  He looked around the room one last time to ensure no one was there.  Surely, a Laird or Lady who could afford to build a castle with gemstones in the walls could spare a few scraps for his neighbor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stepped up to the stone slab that held the opal and did his best to steady his shaky hands.  Ever so slowly, he reached out and grasped the gemstone, pulling it away from its stone altar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The light of the opal diminished as he gathered his plaid and shoved the gem inside.  Then, he moved to the diamond.  On and on he went, taking gemstones from their altars until there were none left, each one losing their light when he held them in his hands.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All at once, the lights went out in the great hall, and the buzzing completely stopped.  The quiet he heard was not the quiet of the Highlands.  There was no wind or rain.  No birds nor beasts.  The absence of sound was more oppressive on his ears than a thousand raging bagpipes in the middle of a battle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A jolt of fear shot through him, knowing something wasn’t right.  He bolted for the door as quickly as he could, but when he reached the edge of the stone circle, it was as though the air around him had turned into a large, invisible wall.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No...no!” he yelled, racing to the other side of the circle, desperate to find another way out.  But the invisible wall surrounded him, trapping him in.  He could see nothing and hear even less as he searched for an exit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Coming to his senses, he grabbed the gems in his plaid and began running around the circle, placing each one back on a stone altar, clinging to the hope that once the stones were sated, they’d let him be back on his way.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How very wrong he was.  As soon as he put a gem on a stone slab, it was as though the inside of the rock was made of liquid, and the gem absorbed deep within the impenetrable altar of stone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There he was, trapped alone in the dark, all his gems lost to the treacherous magic of the castle.  “Help!” he cried.  “Let me go!  I’ll do whatever ye want.  I’ll pay whatever ye ask!  I swear it to ye!  I’ll pay my penance!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Quiet unearthly laughter echoed in the rafters above.  A flutter of wings sounded as the laughter descended to the ground. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” he called out into the darkness.  “Who’s there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “James Fraser,” said an otherworldly voice, “I knew you’d come.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who are ye?  How d’ye ken my name?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know everything about you, young Laird,” the voice echoed all around him.  “I know the darkest places in your wretched soul.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The air in the circle was growing hot and heavy around him, and he struggled with all his might to pull it in his lungs.  His arms and legs grew heavy, making it harder and harder to move. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s happening to me?” he cried.  “What are ye doing to me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ve stolen the gems of the Circle of Seven Stones.  They demand payment for your treachery.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Payment?” he gasped, his body freezing up, petrifying into stone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You tried to steal what gives them life, so now they wish to take your own.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My life?  No!  No!  I’ll do anything they want.  I’ll pay whatever price they demand!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Laughter echoed around him as the scent of fire and brimstone filled his nose. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please!  I’ll...do...anything,” he was losing his voice along with his movement.  “Anything...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “An offense against the Auld Ones requires payment threefold.” </em>
</p><p>Threefold!<em> he thought to himself, no longer able to move his lips to speak.  He stole seven gemstones.  He’d have to pay three times that to buy his freedom.  He didn’t even have one!  </em>Impossible!</p><p>
  <em> “Pay your debt to each stone, one gem times three, and you’ll find your freedom awaiting you on the other side.” </em>
</p><p>How can I pay a debt when I canna even move to find a bloody gem?</p><p>
  <em> Laughter echoed in his ears as his body turned to stone...until that sound, too, was gone.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could not hear, nor see, nor touch, taste, or smell.  He couldn’t even move or breathe.  His heart was cold and still in his chest. </em>
</p><p><em> And finally...he could no longer remember who </em> he <em> was.  His memory was wiped clean away.  He could only recall that he was a man who rode uninvited to a glittering castle and stole its treasure, turning him to stone.   </em></p><p>
  <em> All that remained in him was fear and pain and agony and sin.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was most certainly in Hell, chaos and rage battering away at what was left of his useless mind.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no Time in Hell.  Only the endless agony of drowning in his own sin.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was utterly helpless, more so than a newborn babe, for they had the power to cry for help.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Like a punch to the wame, a sudden gust of air knocked into James, sending him flying back into one of the seven stones of the circle.  He thought he’d crash against it and crumble into a million pieces, but just as it had done to the gemstone before him, the slab turned liquid and pulled him inside. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Give Me Thine Ear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a href="https://imgbb.com"></a><br/>    <br/>  </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You see what happens when you spend the night with three lasses?” Claire snapped.  “You turn to stone and get sent to an alternate dimension.”</p>
<p>“Aye,” said Jamie, grinning at his wife’s jealousy, pressing his lips softly behind her ear.</p>
<p>Her hand reached down and grabbed his cock.  “Uh oh, you’ve already begun to turn to stone...do you have something to confess, James Fraser?”</p>
<p>He reluctantly moved her hand off his cock.  </p>
<p>“Hush now, wife, and give me thine ear.”  He took her lobe gently between his teeth, eliciting a shiver and a squeak.  “We still have a long journey ahead of us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>******************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The absence of sound did not make for a quiet mind.  James Fraser’s head was a tumultuous storm of pain and suffering.  He existed only with his sin and the misery that accompanied it. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Part of him wondered how stealing a few gems from an abandoned castle could earn him a punishment like this.  But the other part somehow knew that his absence of memory held the answer to that question.  Were he faced with the truth of his wretchedness, he would find plenty of transgressions to earn him this fate worse than death.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The agony of his sins was only so great because of the gravity of the offenses he’d committed to begin with.  If he was a pure man, his sins would be easy to bear, not this endless torture he currently found himself in. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The reality of his soul-deep wickedness struck him like a great wave battering down on a rocky shore, drowning him in the shame and guilt of deeds he couldn’t even recall. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He would’ve sobbed if he could breathe or make a sound.  He yearned for the capacity to cry tears. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And the worst of it was that he was all alone with his regret.  No one would ever understand the terrible state of his existence. No one could help soothe the anguish of his damaged soul. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He’d never been more lonely in all his life. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Then again...maybe he had. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He longed for someone to hear his pain, to not be so terribly alone.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> But as his sins raged like a hurricane within, he knew that even if someone could come help him, no one would ever </em> want <em> to.  Who could stomach the presence of a monster so dreadful?  Of a being overflowing with depravity?</em></p>
<p>
  <em> He wasn’t worthy of anyone’s mercy.  He’d earned this shame, regret, and sorrow. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> But to his surprise, a soft, warm breath tickled his ear.  The absence of pain in that one place in his body was such a shock, that the rest of his wretchedness was almost forgotten for the smallest of moments. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A soothing sassenach’s voice whispered, “One does not have to earn mercy, Jamie.  Grace is a gift given freely by those who love.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> If he could’ve sucked in a breath, he would’ve done so.  But he couldn’t move nor breathe nor speak.  So he lay there in gratitude for the beautiful sound...something he never thought he’d experience again.  It was the one thing in his existence that wasn’t constant agony. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Talk to me, Jamie,” the voice said.  “Make me understand.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He couldn’t talk, but he knew she could still somehow listen.  And so he let the pain of his sins and anguish roll through him.  He felt wave after wave of shame and regret for all he’d done to deserve this fate.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he shared his pain with the ethereal voice, he felt her breath on his other ear.  “That’s right, darling.  Unburden your sins.  Repent and confess.  Share your pain.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He opened his mind to the goodness of her voice and shared every filthy piece of himself there was.   For a time, he feared his vileness would chase her away, but no matter what she heard, she stayed, whispering calm, loving words into his ear. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> When all of the worst of him had been revealed, a peace washed over him unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  To be seen so clearly and to still be loved...it was the purest form of healing he’d ever known. </em>
</p>
<p><em> And with his peace, he found something new inside himself...that of </em> curiosity <em> for another. </em>  </p>
<p>
  <em> Who was the voice in his ears?  Who was the woman who listened to his pain and took it away?  He wanted to know more.  He wanted to know her. </em>
</p>
<p>Who are ye?  How did ye find me?<em> he thought as loud as he could, hoping she’d hear. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “I am the Wise-Woman.  I found you on a faerie hill where I was picking flowers.” </em>
</p>
<p>D’ye like flowers, then?</p>
<p>
  <em> “I love flowers and plants and all sorts of green things…” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And so his body of stone lay at peace, listening to the sweetest voice talk about all manner of things that gave her pleasure.  And the more she spoke, the more pleasure it gave him...and the more he wanted to hear… </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claire whimpered as Jamie licked down the slope of her ear.  He rained kisses all over it, from the very top to the bottom of her lobe.</p>
<p>“So, the Wise-Woman healed his ears by listening to him?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Aye...and healed much of his soul by teaching <em> him </em>how to listen in turn.”</p>
<p>“Can he hear everything now?  Or just her voice?”</p>
<p>“Oh, he can hear most things well...except perhaps music.  Some damage canna be undone.”</p>
<p>Claire chuckled pleasantly as Jamie returned his lips’ attentions to her other ear.  </p>
<p>“Does the Wise-Woman heal any other parts of our Laird?” she asked eagerly.  “And will you be demonstrating that healing with your lips too?”</p>
<p>“Ready for more, <em> mo ghraidh</em>?”</p>
<p>“Mmm, yes please.  Listening is healing, after all.”</p>
<p>Jamie licked in her ear, causing her to squeal like a piglet before he pressed on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The Wise-Woman had grown very fond of Jamie for reasons he couldn’t fathom.  She listened to his tragic tale and decided to help him find whatever gemstones she could. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Never had he felt so grateful.  Never had he felt so humbled by someone’s kindness. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I know two other healers that could possibly help,” she said.  “You’ll be safe here on the hill while I go find them.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He was powerless to show his gratitude, but hoped she could feel it in her soul. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> When he was left alone again, memory of his sins remained, but the peace she instilled in him sheltered him from their ongoing destruction.  He was able to wait by himself without the agony of before.  It also helped that the sounds of birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees were there to keep him company...he’d never realized just how beautiful they were before. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She returned, as she said she would, with two other healers at her side.  He relished the sounds of their footsteps clambering up the hill to meet him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “This is him?” said a calm, soft voice.  “The poor man.”  Her tones were a little deeper, a seasoned maturity wrapped around every word. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “He’s lucky he’s not dead!  Goddamn bloody bastard,” a different voice echoed through the chambers of his mind, this one belonging to a spritely young woman with a tongue of an adder.    </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “He’s not out of the woods yet,” said the older woman.    </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie felt soft lips on his ear, and relished the return of his friend.  The Wise-Woman spoke in her gentle, calming tone, “This is Mistress Beauchamp and Dr. Randall.  They’re here to help.”   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hmphm!” said Mistress Beauchamp.  “I’m not sure I want to help just yet.  What kind of arrogant son of a bitch steals gemstones from the Fair Folk?”  </em>
</p>
<p>I didna ken they belonged to the Fair Folk! <em> he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t  move to form the words. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “But you knew they weren’t yours!” Mistress Beauchamp responded. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hello, Mr. Fraser,” said Dr. Randall.  </em>
</p>
<p>Have ye come to help me?</p>
<p>
  <em> “Of course we have.  We’re healers,” she said.  “That’s what we were born to do.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> James could hear some shuffling around, as though the doctor was digging through a bag of medical supplies.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Alright,” she said, “let’s take a look at those hands.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His hands!  He never thought he’d get feeling in his hands again nor have a chance to move them.  How wonderful would it be to touch the Wise-Woman.  To offer her comfort the way she’d offered it to him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The sounds of  Dr. Randall’s movements were pleasant on his ears after so long without hearing any sounds at all.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh dear,” she said.  “It looks like the fingers on your right hand crumbled during your fall.” </em>
</p>
<p>Crumbled?<em> If his stomach wasn’t already stone, it would’ve turned into jagged rocks at the sound of the word. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “I found the ring finger!” said the Wise-Woman from somewhere off to his left.  She ran forward and gave it to Dr. Randall.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Wonderful!” said Dr. Randall.  “And I might be able to make something of his forefinger.  The middle one is beyond repair.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Are you sure you want to mend his hands?” said Mistress Beauchamp.  “Look at them.  They’re stained with blood.  He’ll likely just go on to sully them again.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “We took an oath, Mistress Beauchamp.  We cannot leave him to such a fate if there’s something we can do.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Shame filled Jamie’s soul, knowing Mistress Beauchamp had the measure of him better than anyone else.   </em>
</p>
<p>The lass is right, <em> he said in his mind</em>, I’m a beast of man and dinna deserve yer kindness.  And there’s little chance I’d ever be able to repay ye.</p>
<p>
  <em> “Everyone deserves kindness, Jamie,” said Dr. Randall.  “And you can repay us by keeping your hands clean in the future, should the rest of you ever be healed.” </em>
</p>
<p>Aye...I swear it.  I vow I shall never strike out to harm another again, save in protection of innocent life.</p>
<p>
  <em> “Careful your vows, Mr. Fraser,” said Mistress Beauchamp.  “The Circle will hold you to them.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It wasn’t long before Jamie felt the sensation of a butterfly’s wings fluttering over his right hand.  Gentle tingling quickly turned to a prickling burn as his hand began its awakening from a prolonged slumber. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As she moved to his left side, his right hand came fully to life.  He could feel the grass beneath his palms, and he clutched at it, digging his fingers into the cool, moist dirt.  His middle finger was missing, but that was nothing when he worried only moments before that he’d never have use of his hands again.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dr. Randall fixed his left hand with more ease than his right, not having been damaged in his fall.  As soon as he could move it again, he grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his. </em>
</p>
<p>Thank ye,<em> he grunted in his mind, putting all his feeling into the thought.  </em>I am e’er at yer mercy.</p>
<p>
  <em> She stroked his palm, sending gooseflesh over his skin.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A flood of warmth and life came over him, being truly touched for the first time.  Touching another with tenderness and affection in a way he never had before.  Pleasure and joy soared through him, and he promised himself he’d never waste another touch again.  He’d never use his hands for the sake of harm, but to devote his life to inspiring this feeling in others. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jamie looked down at the scars on his right hand, streaks of silver in the pale moonlight.  He stroked his fingers over Claire’s palm, causing her whole body to quiver.  </p>
<p>He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles, and then he moved to the other and did the same.  </p>
<p>Claire’s surgeon hands were the reason he was still alive to this day.  They were the reason his hand was intact and not chopped off after festering for days.</p>
<p>Her lover’s hands gave his body life when they touched his skin.  He kissed both her palms, licking them softly to hear her moan.  </p>
<p>He sucked on her fingers one by one, tasting the herbs of her garden that always seemed to linger there no matter how hard she tried to scrub them clean.</p>
<p>“The most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen,” he whispered.  “Wi’out them, I’d be ashes and dust.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Go on, Mistress Beauchamp,” said Dr. Randall.  “It’s your turn.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m not sure I want to help this man,” said Mistress Beauchamp.  “He was entitled and arrogant, stealing those gems.  Why should I give voice to such vanity and pride?” </em>
</p>
<p>Ye’re right, <em> he thought, </em>I dinna deserve yer help.  I wouldna blame ye for leaving me here to die.</p>
<p><em> He could almost hear her roll her eyes.  </em>“I’m not going to let you die, James Fraser, tempted as I may be.”</p>
<p>
  <em> She sat down next to him and pinched his ear—one of the only two places he had any feeling.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He laughed in his mind, amused by her fire. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Why should I help you?” she asked. </em>
</p>
<p>By all rights, ye shouldn’t<em> . </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “Do you genuinely believe that?” </em>
</p>
<p>Aye.  I do.</p>
<p>
  <em> He might have imagined a ghost of a touch over his lips. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’ve a beautiful, wide mouth,” she said.  “It would be a shame to give control of it to an awful man.  A man more concerned about his self-importance than the care of others.  What would you use your lips for should I give them back to you?” </em>
</p>
<p>They’d be completely at yer service, Mistress.</p>
<p>
  <em> Her giggle was music to his newly freed ears, and another ghost of a touch ran across his bottom lip. “And how would you serve me?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He smiled softly, thinking of all the things he could do with his mouth...then he realized that he was able to smile!  His lips were softening, slowly gaining the ability to move. </em>
</p>
<p><em> He still couldn’t speak, so he told her with his mind, </em> I wouldna presume to ken how to serve you, Mistress.  I’m sure yer sharp tongue is perfectly capable of telling me the best way to do so yourself.</p>
<p>
  <em> “Well then, you are a quick study, aren’t you?” she said against his lips.  “Beginning to realize that the world does not revolve around you and your whims?” </em>
</p>
<p>A hard learned lesson.</p>
<p>
  <em> She placed her mouth over his, and blew a deep breath of air.  Again and again she did so, until his lungs were full and he was once again breathing on his own.  But he gave up his newfound ability to take in air when her tongue dipped in his mouth and licked his own, bringing it to life. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He groaned aloud as he kissed her, lips moving passionately together.  His ability to make sounds were inconsequential when her mouth was on his. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Mistress…” he moaned when she pulled away. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh, I knew you’d have a lovely voice, Jamie,” she said. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I dinna ken how to thank ye.  How to thank all three of ye.”   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Though he could hear and speak and feel the grass he lay on, he was still stuck, unmoving save for his hands and mouth.  He couldn’t even see the kind healers who had taken care of him. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jamie straddled his wife’s body, fingers linked with hers, as they kissed deeply.  He could kiss her for hours...for days...for the rest of their lives.</p>
<p>She was squirming beneath him, trying to rub her body against his, but he pulled away, knowing they had so much further to go.</p>
<p>She grunted in frustration and gave up her attempts to overpower him.  “Fine.  Back to your story.  So Mistress Beauchamp was able to breathe life back into stone?”</p>
<p>“Aye,” he kissed her softly.  “She had a mouth that spoke true.  One that was no’ prideful nor boastful.  One whose counsel should be listened to...a woman to learn from.  One whose filthy words would make St. Paul roll over in his grave.”</p>
<p>“St. Paul can mind his own bloody business.”</p>
<p>“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “he can.”  He kissed her smiling lips once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s time,” said the Wise-Woman.  “We’ve done all we can do for you, Jamie.  We must send you back through the stones to the Circle you came from.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “But…” he wasn’t ready to leave them yet.  “Ye saved me.  When all was lost...when I was nothing but dust on the earth...ye saved me.  Ye took pity on a filthy wretch, ye took away my pain, and ye gave me more than I deserve.  I havena done enough to thank ye.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “A gift does not require payment, remember?” said the Wise-Woman.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “And you can thank us by keeping your vows,” said Mistress Beauchamp. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “’Tis no’ enough,” said Jamie. </em>
</p>
<p><em> “</em>Humility <em>suits you, darling,” said Dr. Randall. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Then Jamie’s hands felt the grass move beneath him.  The buzzing in the air told him they were bringing him closer to a standing stone. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’ll need payment to make it back,” said the Wise-Woman.  “This will be our final gift to you.”   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She came up close and kissed him softly behind the ear, placing a large smooth stone in his hand—an opal, perhaps—before she disappeared. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Where did she go?” Jamie yelled in panic.  “What happened to her?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dr. Randall took his hand in hers and bent down to kiss it, leaving another opal in the place of her lips before she disappeared too.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Don’t go!” he begged Mistress Beauchamp, knowing what would come. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Her lips pressed softly against his, and she disappeared, leaving a third opal in his hand. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “No!” he yelled, terrified of being alone again.  And worse, knowing that he didn’t deserve the gifts they’d given him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And just as before, the stone he leaned against turned to liquid and pulled him back through… </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lean On Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
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</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “No!” he cried.  “Where are they?  What happened to them?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They’re gone,” the bodiless voice echoed around him in the Circle of Seven Stones.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why?  Why would they sacrifice themselves for the likes of me?  I’ve done naught to deserve such a thing!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You felt entitled to take the gems that give life to the stone circle, why do you not feel entitled to the gems that gave life to your saviors?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I was wrong!  I ken that now!  I’m no better than anyone else, and certainly not them.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They made their choice for the sake of their souls...and yours.” </em>
</p><p><em> Tears of grief fell from his eyes.  He couldn’t move his arms to wipe them away, so they soaked into his stone flesh, absorbing into his hard skin.  “’Tis no’ fair,” he wept.  “I finally found peace, and it was taken away for the sake of this wretched curse!  Ye already took my body and my mind, and now ye’re taking the people I love!  Can I no’ have </em> some <em> bit of happiness?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Happiness?  You think you’re capable of happiness?  In your life you had everything you could possibly want, and still happiness eluded you.  You’ve had wealth beyond measure, yet you still stole from others and gave naught in return.  None of that ever brought you happiness.  You're insatiable, you fool.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The wind started picking up around him, and the buzzing in his ears grew once again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps I’ll send you to a place that will teach you things can always get worse.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, no!  Please, no!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>****************</p><p> </p><p>“Now, really,” said Claire.  “The poor man is grieving!  Can’t he have a moment to process his pain?”</p><p>“Ye’ve a soft heart, Sassenach.”</p><p>“Perhaps I do, but you know what grief is like.  Imagine being torn from the ones you love so quickly, then being sent off to endure more tortures without a chance to catch your breath.”</p><p>He thought of Culloden and the acute ache of losing the one he loved so dearly.  “I dinna have to imagine.”</p><p>She looked abashed and ran a tender hand down his cheek.  “I know you don’t.”</p><p>“And now, neither does our Laird.”</p><p>“Right.”  She braced herself.  “On with it then.”</p><p> </p><p>****************</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Rain was pouring down on the moor.  Jamie kept spitting and sputtering out water, trying to stop himself from drowning as he lay frozen in the stone circle.  His hands ached as the cold, filthy puddles rose up around him.  His jaw shivered, teeth clattering noisily in his ears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Part of him wanted to just give up trying.  What purpose was there in life if naught but sadness and heartache lie before him? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Auld One in the Circle of Seven Stones had called him insatiable.  Said he’d never be happy.  Never be satisfied.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was it too much to ask for peace?  Was it too much to ask for something more?  Perhaps to walk again?  Or see?  Was it too much to ask for shelter and food? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If only he could just be warm and dry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If only he could have Mistress Beauchamp back...or the Wise-Woman...or Dr. Randall. </em>
</p><p><em> He </em> could <em> be happy if only... </em></p><p>
  <em> “Hello, young man,” said a cheerful voice.  “Why are you lying in the mud?  And in the rain, no less?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I canna get up,” he groaned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whyever not?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because I...I’m…” he stopped himself. There was no use trying to explain.  “Never mind me, woman.  Go on about yer business.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you need help?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No’ the kind of help you or anyone else can give.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Divine intervention perhaps?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m none so sure even God can save me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I see.”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I doubt verra much that ye do.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well then,” she chirped.  With a little bit of grunting and shuffling next to him, he realized the woman had lain down beside him.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are ye doing, lass?” he grumbled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Gaining perspective.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perspective?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Indeed.”  She coughed and sputtered a moment.  “No wonder you’ve got your eyes closed, man.  The rain is coming down so hard, it’s impossible to see.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He grunted.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The mud is quite squishy and pleasant though, isn’t it?” she said, squirming around and humming next to him.  “I haven’t lain in the mud since I was a child.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He grumbled audibly, just wanting some peace. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know,” she rambled on, “I’ve heard of places where mud is used cosmetically...it’s good for the skin.  Absorbs oil and detoxifies…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Christ, woman, would ye leave me be?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh.  I see.  You want silence?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes.  You’re right.  Silence is important for reflection and introspection.  It’s necessary for meditation.  Let’s be silent together and listen to the sounds of nature around us.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Meditation?” he groaned.  He was about to contradict her, but thought it not worth the effort. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They lay there quietly, two people in a boggy moor, surrounded by magical standing stones.  Rain pelted down over them, falling like angry teardrops on his face.  He could hear heavy droplets bounce off the stones and splash in the muddy puddles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could also hear the steady breathing of the woman beside him who occasionally spit water out the side of her mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A strange creature she was, seemingly unaffected by his morose bitterness and the freezing downpour they were lying in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why are ye here?” he asked, this time speaking with genuine curiosity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because you need me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I told ye, none can help me.  I’m ruined.  And ye shouldna care to try.  Everyone who touches me dies.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So you think your touch is poison?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I think it must be, aye.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Quietly, softly, she grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tell me about them,” she said.  “Tell me of the ones you lost.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His tears fell along with the rain.  “I lost the lass who listened to the worst of my soul and loved me anyway.  And the one who touched me and made me feel something again.  And the one who breathed life into me when my lungs were made of stone.”  He was weeping now, drowning in emptiness.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.  Her touch conveyed a sympathy that told him she knew his pain all too well. </em>
</p><p><em> “Who was it </em> you <em> lost?” he asked, guessing at the source of her sympathy. </em></p><p>
  <em> “My husband…” she paused.  A tremor went through her hand.  “His ship went down at sea.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m so verra sorry.”  And not just for her grief...but for his lack of kindness upon their meeting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s alright.  I found a way to go on...after a time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How?  How did ye find the strength?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “To be honest, I didn’t do it on my own.  I leaned on another until I got my legs under me again.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He considered what that might be like.  What moving on would mean.  “Why does the thought of moving on fill me with guilt?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Because you wish it wasn’t </em> you <em> who survived.  You wish it was them.  You feel disloyal for moving on when they didn’t get the chance to do the same.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Aye.”  Pain gripped his lifeless heart. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tell me this.  Would they want you to waste your life drowning in the cold mud on an empty moor?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If he could’ve hung his head in shame, he would’ve done so.  “Of course not.  They gave their lives so that I might have mine.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And this is how you honor them?” </em>
</p><p><em> “</em>Mmphm. <em>  May I ask how you honored </em> your <em> husband?” </em></p><p>
  <em> She snorted loudly, bouncing up and down in a fit of giggles.  “No!  You most certainly may not.  But this isn’t about me.  This is about you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps life willna be as fulfilling wi’out them.  Perhaps my life means less wi’out them in it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps.  I suppose you’ll never know…especially if you don’t try.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How is it for you?  Is life wi’out yer husband as happy as life was wi’ him?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was quiet...her answer clear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s what I thought,” he grumbled.  “Is no’ the unfairness maddening?  It shouldna be this way.  Some get to spend their lives wi’ the ones they love, and others waste their lives by treating the ones they love poorly.  If I only had a chance to...” </em>
</p><p><em> “But you </em> don’t! <em> ” she snapped.  “And neither do I.  Wanting what you can’t have, or envying what others have only leads to misery.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “But if I just…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well you can’t!  Stop comparing yourself to others.  And stop comparing your life now to what it once was.  It’ll never make you happy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then what d'ye suggest I do?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Focus on what’s front you, on the things you still have, and the emptiness won’t seem so profound.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “In front of me?  I’m frozen and near drowning in a bog!  I canna see, and I canna move!  Whatever I once was is gone, and if ever I try to get it back, I seem to lose more and more.  There is naught in front of me to fill my emptiness!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’d be surprised the things you still have.  And you know, things can always get worse.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He huffed a pained breath.  “And is that supposed to make me feel better?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It is, in fact.  Look at what you have now.”  She squeezed his hand.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “All I have now is nosy besom of a companion wi’ a vulgar curiosity about my circumstance.” </em>
</p><p><em> “You have a </em> friend<em>, Jamie.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “A friend?”  He wondered how she knew his name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “For what it’s worth.” </em>
</p><p>For what it’s worth. <em>  He supposed it was worth something.  For a moment, his friend had helped him forget how cold he was...how wet and uncomfortable. </em></p><p>
  <em> “I...I suppose ’tis some consolation.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And you have ears to hear me, and a voice to talk to me.  They say conversation is healing, you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled at an old memory of a Wise-Woman he once knew.  “Aye.  I ken that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you compare your life to others...or if you compare your life to what it once was...there will only be more pain.  Envy is wanting what you can’t have; gratitude is appreciating what is already yours.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Gratitude.”  Another tear fell down his cheek.  Did he not promise to never take for granted the touch of hand?  Did he not promise that he’d never forget what it felt like to not hear the wind blow and the birds sing?  That he’d never forget the agony of being alone with his pain and having no one to share it with? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aye,” he said.  “Ye’re right, of course.  I havena been honoring the ones I loved.  I must endeavor to do better...for them...and for me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She squeezed his hand affectionately.  “So then, I ask you again, my friend...do you require any assistance?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aye,” he laughed.  “And I’d be grateful for any help ye can spare.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She let go of his hand and sat up next to him, shuffling around to prepare to assist him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I havena asked ye, lass.  What is yer name?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am Lady John.  And you are James Fraser.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aye.  I am.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A wave of sensation moved down his legs as Lady John’s hands massaged life into them.  Every drop of rain could be felt on his skin.  His stockings were wet, and his kilt was soaked, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest when he was finally able to bend his knees. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh God!  Oh Christ!” he moaned.  Lady John massaged his thighs and his calves deep and strong, and he felt life flowing through them again.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It took some time for her to help him stand, mostly because his feet still didn’t work.  Once she got him upright, she moved in front of him with her back to his chest, and said, “Lean on me, Jamie.  I know some people who might be able to help you with a few other things.  We’ll start with Milady.  She’s been known to help lost souls find their footing.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aye,” he said.  “I could most certainly use that.  And I’ll be sure to be ever grateful.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>****************</p><p> </p><p>Jamie squeezed Claire’s thighs, her plump flesh molding to his hands.  She spread her legs, inviting him in the space between.  </p><p>
  <em> Wicked wee seductress.</em>
</p><p>“Are ye even listening to the story, Sassenach?  Or are ye only focused on getting to the <em> climax</em>?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m enjoying every step of this journey...though you can’t blame me for hoping for a tease of the ending now and again.”</p><p>“You wouldna glimpse the ending of a book before reading it through, would ye?”</p><p>“Of course I would.  I’m a doctor.  Medical research journals always give summaries of their findings at the beginning of the articles.”</p><p>Jamie snorted in disgust while continuing his leisurely adoration of his wife’s lower limbs.</p><p>“Well, don’t stop now,” said Claire.  “What happened after Lady John helped give our Laird his legs back?  Did she take him to Milady to find his footing?”</p><p>He lifted her leg, kissing down the inside, enjoying the way it made her squirm. “Aye...she did.”</p><p> </p><p>****************</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “God, it’s warm,” said Jamie, lying on a cot next to the fire, a large, dry blanket wrapped snugly around him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re comfortable, Monsieur Fraser?” said Milady, her French accent infused with concern.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aye…” he sighed, surprised at what a difference an hour made.  Lady John sat next to him, holding his hand as Milady tended to his warmth.  “I canna thank ye enough for letting me into yer home and caring for me.  I ken I’ve done naught to earn yer trust.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You wouldn’t be the first heathen I’ve allowed into my home and my heart,” said Milady.  “Now, let’s get these boots off to dry by the fire.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her hands were gentle and firm as she peeled off his boots and stockings.  He could almost hear the hiss of the water evaporating off them from a few feet away.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your feet are filthy, Monsieur.  Allow me to cleanse them with soap and water.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Och, no.  I canna allow ye to do that.”  He wished he could bow his head or shrink away in embarrassment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And why not?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why not?  Because I am a vagrant imposing on the kindness and hospitality of a Lady.  I shallna have ye debase yerself so for the likes of me.  If ye dinna have a servant to do it for ye, then I shall go wi’ filthy feet.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her laughter embarrassed him further, but the sound was like music, so he welcomed it anyway.  He heard her pouring water into a basin and coming to kneel by his feet.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Foolish man.  Whether Laird or Lady, King or Queen, it is our duty to serve the people under our care.  We should not use them for our own ends.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jamie gasped as his feet were submerged in warm water.  Feeling slowly began to return to his toes.  Her hands were as soft as a breeze as the soap bubbled up and caressed his skin like a warm cloud. Tears fell down his cheeks when he was finally able to stretch out his toes.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I canna thank ye enough,” he whispered, voice incapable of saying anything more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hush, now Jamie,” said Lady John, her finger caressing the curve of his ear.  “Lay your head, and get some rest.  You’ll need your strength soon enough.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With Milady’s hands on his feet, Lady John’s voice in his ear, and the warm fire beside him, he couldn’t resist sleep if he tried. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Gentle lips upon his lids roused him to consciousness.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Milady?  Is that you?  Lady John?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew it wasn’t them.  He could feel that they were gone.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The lips rained soft kisses over his brow and on the delicate skin beneath his eyes.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How I wish I could see ye…” he breathed. </em>
</p><p>“Love looks not with the eyes,"<em> said a voice as warm as the sun, </em>"but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind<em>.</em>”</p><p>
  <em> He hitched a breath.  “Who are ye?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Open your eyes, and see for yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He kept them closed, knowing that staring at the sun would blind him to all else. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s alright, Jamie.  You can see clearly now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew she wasn’t just talking about his eyes, but the lessons hard learned since coming through stones.  “Aye.  ’Tis perhaps the reason I’m so scairt to look.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her lips pressed against his eyelids one more time.  “You’ll find your courage again soon, my darling.  Until then, open your eyes, and take in the light.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A flare of blinding light illuminated his closed lids.  Slowly, he forced them open.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The golden fire of the sun was suspended in two orbs before him. </em>
</p><p><em> “</em>Sorcha<em>,” he breathed, transfixed.  Her eyes blazed painfully bright, forcing him to close his own once again.   </em></p><p>
  <em> When darkness returned, he opened them, able to see clearly for the first time in as long as he could remember.   </em>
</p><p><em> The room around him was empty save a small hearthfire and his own cot.  Amber fractals of light shimmered all over the room.  </em><em>He looked down to find a glowing citrine gem on his chest.  He tried to reach for it, but his arms were still frozen to his sides.  But in his effort, he realized he held a gem in each of his hands.  Gifts from </em>Sorcha, Lady John, <em>and</em> Milady.</p><p><em> Clumsily, he forced himself to stand—boots and stockings already returned, warm and dry, to his feet.  Before he left to find the stone circle on the moor, he dropped to his knees and prayed for the first time since going to the castle, not for his wellness or for a return to his old life, but in </em> gratitude <em> for the women who tended to his body and soul.  For the women who helped him see the light and stand on his own two feet again. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”<br/>- A Midsummer Night's Dream, act1, s1</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Forget Me Not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a href="https://imgbb.com"></a><br/>    <br/>  </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “Jamie,” </em> breathed Claire.  He was holding her head in his hands, lips moving softly over her brow.  </p>
<p>He could see she was moved, eyes misting over, making them glitter even more than usual.  </p>
<p>“Ye're so beautiful, my love.  You are my light, <em> mo Sorcha</em>.  Ye’ve scraped me off the floor and stood me up on my own two feet more times than I can count.  Whether saving me at Wentworth, or your spirit forcing me to hold onto life after Culloden, ye’ve illuminated the path through unending darkness.”</p>
<p>He kissed away the tears that dropped down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies close together.</p>
<p>This wasn’t a part of his plan, but he couldn’t pull himself away.  Her soft, delicate body pinned beneath him made him ravenous.  </p>
<p>He wasn’t speaking false in his tale, not for a moment.  He was in love with every bit of his wife, and he meant to show her...and he meant to indulge in her.</p>
<p>She curled her legs around his, inviting him into the embrace of her thighs.  He would live there for eternity if he could.</p>
<p>He kissed her long and slow, craving nothing more than to sink his cock deep inside her.  Her hands reached down and took hold of his arse, urging him to do just that.  </p>
<p>But her grip on his bottom reminded him they had a few more stones left before he could indulge that whim.</p>
<p>“Patience, Sassenach,” he grunted, forcing himself up on his knees.  “<em>Patience</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*****************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The Circle of the Seven Stones was still dark upon Jamie’s return, but he noticed the opal and citrine gems were on display on their stone altars once again. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He didn’t wait for the voice in the darkness to send him through the next stone.  He wanted to get the rest of his tasks over with.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> If he was being honest with himself, the reasons the two previous stones held any torture for him at all was as a result of his own self-sabotage.  Perhaps that was the greatest shame in his ridiculous situation.  He’d move through the rest with intentions of not making it worse for himself. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He walked to the next stone in the circle and leaned against it, letting it pull him through… </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> He appeared on a small dun overlooking rolling hills of heather and a pretty wood not far away.  It took him a moment to stand up, seeing as how he couldn’t move his arms or his back.  Lessons of humility kept his pride from suffering too much, and feelings of gratitude were ever present for what he did have as he made it to his feet.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Alright...what now?”  He had no idea where he was meant to go or what gems he was meant to find.  A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of another woman sacrificing herself for him.  He decided, if he could find a different way to get the gems, he must do so...without stealing them of course. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Trying to find some sign of life in the world around him, he walked the perimeter of the stone circle, gazing out over the rolling hills. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was a beautiful sight...it reminded of him of his childhood...of a wee lassie he once played with near a dun… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A loud croaking of a bird sounded overhead.  It wasn’t the caw of a crow, but a lower, more guttural sound of a raven.   Jamie looked up as best he could without moving his neck, expecting to see a dark bird flying across the sky.  Instead, a great white raven flew past the dun, making its way over several hills and into the birch woods beyond.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Taking it as a sign, he followed the path of the white raven over the hills and into trees.  His pace was slow and meandering in his current physical state, but he finally arrived to the edge of the wood.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The deeper he walked into the line of trees, he began seeing glittering fractals of purple light reflected around him.   </em>
</p>
<p>A gemstone!<em> he thought.  </em>But could it really be that easy?</p>
<p>
  <em> He spun on his heel, looking for the only possible gem that could shine that color purple...amethyst.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “What in God’s holy name?”  In the tall grass between the trees, he discovered not one, but two gems lying about ten feet apart.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He looked around, wondering whose they might be and how they came to lie there, but there was no one nearby.    </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hallo!” he called, fearful of stealing the gems and ending up in more trouble than when he started.  “Is anyone here?  Do these gems belong to someone?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Haark,” called the white raven from high up in a tree. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Are they yers?” he chuckled.  “D’ye like sparkly things then?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Haaarrk!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He looked around once more, wishing someone would appear so he could find a way to earn them without running into any trouble. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No one came. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m going to pick up these stones!” he called.  “I dinna mean to be taking them if they belong to someone!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Haarrrk.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Gi’ me peace ye flying rodent!  Haud yer wheesht.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Grumbling at the bird, he knelt down awkwardly to pick up one of the gems.  It was warm and heavy in his hand.  He felt no little satisfaction that they were so easy to find. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He stood to move to the next gem.  Just as he was only a step away, the white raven swooped down from its tree and swiped up the second amethyst in its beak. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Och no, ye wee coof!”  He lunged for it foolishly and tumbled to the ground, cracking his shoulder against an unseen rock.  He recoiled in pain, watching the bird fly high up to a branch in a birch tree. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Christ!  Damn you!  I hope ye tear a wing ye filthy beast!  If e’er I get my hands on ye, I swear I’ll shove that gem so far up yer arse, ye’ll be farting through yer ears!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No matter how much he yelled and cursed at the raven, all it did was sit quietly on the branch, watching him with a pair of mocking golden eyes and a purple gem in its beak. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie tried all manner of methods to get the bird to move from its perch, but with his arms frozen to his sides, he was not very successful.  Kicking rocks and banging branches were about as effective as cursing.  And he had no chance in hell of scaling that tree without the use of his arms. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He finally gave up on physical means of obtaining the gem and went back to cursing at the damn bird again.  He’d slipped into Gaelic and was busy berating the bird’s harlot of a mother—who Jamie accused of rutting with a demon spawn of Satan—when company wandered into the woods. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh dear,” said a beautiful woman with large, full hair that somehow defied gravity despite it being perfectly straight.  She wore a thin, white coat over a silk shirt and a delicate pair of trousers.  What the likes of her was doing in the Highlands, he had no clue.  “Whyever are you raging at the sweet White Raven?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie snorted.  “The evil wee beast stole something of mine.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The woman looked up at the bird with narrowed eyes and smiled.  “Ah yes.  She loves jewels and trinkets as much as the next lady.  Can you blame her?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Her?”  Jamie’s ears flushed with shame at all the horrible things he said. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Indeed.  Isn’t she lovely?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Lovely?  She’s a wee thief is what she is.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The woman chuckled.  “Haven’t you ever stolen anything before?  I certainly wouldn’t insult your poor mother for your misdeeds.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> If Jamie’s shoulders had the capacity to slump, they would’ve done so.  “I suppose ye’re right.  What’s yer name, lass?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Lady Jane.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “James Fraser.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “A pleasure, Mister Fraser.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m sorry to disrupt yer walk, my Lady.  I just really need that gem.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Well,” Lady Jane looked up at the White Raven, “you don’t actually think cursing and throwing things at her is going to make her all that generous, do you?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I suppose not.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “What is it you need the gem for?” she asked. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie flushed and turned back to look at the dun, feeling ashamed of his tale. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh, I see,” said Lady Jane.  “You have a date with destiny.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Aye.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Well, I understand why you’re so impatient then.  But wrath is a poor means to an end.  It usually causes more problems than it solves.” </em>
</p>
<p>“Hmphm.”</p>
<p>
  <em> “Instead of berating such a rare and beautiful creature, let’s sit awhile and observe her.  Perhaps we’ll think of a solution once peace settles our minds.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He flushed yet again.  “I’m sorry, my Lady, but I canna sit down.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Why not?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Weel...my arse is turned to stone,” he grumbled.  “I can barely walk.  I’ll do better standing still or lying down.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh!” she smirked, trying her best to stifle her amusement.  “A rock solid arse?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Aye.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “May I...have a look?”  It was her turn to blush. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I dinna ken why ye care to see it, but ’tis yers if ye want it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Slowly, she stepped toward him, reaching down for the hem of his kilt.  She lifted it up and grazed a gentle hand across the slope of his buttocks.  She gave a shuddering breath as she came around to his other side. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He groaned in blissful agony at her touch.  “Dear God, I can feel ye.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Her golden eyes were dark and hooded when she took his hand and pulled him to the ground.  He sat straight-backed beside her, leaning a little forward so he wouldn’t tip over.  She held on to his arm to keep him upright, and it eased some of the pain in his cracked shoulder.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “My apologies ye had to bear witness to my wrath,” he said. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Patience isn’t a virtue you’ve acquired yet, is it?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I suppose not.  Does it no’ get frustrating, sitting on yer arse, waiting for the things ye want wi’ yer whole heart?  How can ye wait for things when it feels as though yer soul needs it right now in this very moment?” </em>
</p>
<p><em> “Whether your soul needs that gem or not, you still don’t have it.  Patience isn’t a choice about whether or not you’ll wait—the White Raven has determined you </em> are <em> going to wait.  Patience is a frame of mind you take while you’re waiting.” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “I suppose ye’re right.  I just dinna like to have to do it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Then don’t wait for things that aren’t worth the time it takes to obtain them.  If you decide what you’re waiting for is worth it, then you have a choice to wait patiently or miserably...but harming others with your wrath will only damage them...and you.  And you still won’t have the gem.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie looked at Lady Jane out of the corner of his eye.  “Ye have experience with patience, then?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Twenty years of it...at least.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie looked around the pretty little wood they sat in, then up at the White Raven that was watching him unblinkingly from the tree with her beautiful golden eyes.  He supposed if he was forced to wait for a gem, there were worse ways to do so.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A loud gurgling sounded in his belly, and Jamie realized he was getting hungry. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Shall I find you something to eat?” asked Lady Jane.  “I know a thing or two about edible plants.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Och no.  My wame is stone, and I willna be able to keep the food down.  I thank ye for offering.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I hope you find some relief soon.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They sat in silence for a time, enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company and the beauty of the forest around them.  The White Raven watched them carefully, as though waiting with bated breath for his next move.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “D’ye think,” he asked, “the wee birdie could be lured down by something?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Like what?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Weel,” he still held the other amethyst in his hand, “I could mebbe use this other jewel to entice her closer.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “And what if she flies off with both of them?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Aye,” his mouth grumbled a similarly displeased sound as his stomach did moments before.  Then an idea sprung in his mind.  “D’ye ken of anything the bird would like to eat?  Perhaps if we make her an offering, she’ll drop the gem to take something better?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “That’s a marvelous idea.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “What would she want?  Worms?  Lizards?”   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Come now, Jamie.  She’s a lady.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lady Jane reached into her white coat and pulled out a small flask.  She opened it up and took a large swallow before holding it out to Jamie. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “No, thank ye.  Regrettably, my wame canna bear it, mind?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s not for you, silly man.”  She nodded up to the raven.  “It’s for her.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His eyebrows raised.  “The bird drinks whisky?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “How do you think her eyes became gold?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Is that how yer eyes became gold as well?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She shrugged.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I canna move my arms verra well.  D’ye mind helping lure her in?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Of course.”  Lady Jane poured a little whisky into the lid and set it down in front of them.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The White Raven’s whisky eyes watched them warily. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They waited quietly for a long time.  The sun had moved a good distance across the sky before the bird showed any sign of moving. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Finally, she flew down to inspect the offering.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie held still, fearful of frightening her off once again.  She bounced cautiously around the lid of whisky with the amethyst in her beak as though expecting a trap.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Appearing to come to some sort of conclusion, the bird flapped her wings and rose up toward Jamie.  He lifted his arms to block her from his face, fearful she might attack him when he was so helpless.  His right arm was useless with his shoulder out of place, but his left protected him well. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The raven landed on his outstretched arm.  Jamie inhaled sharply, shocked that he could move them once again. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The bird walked slowly down his arm until she put the gemstone in his hand.  Then, she jumped down to drink the whisky from the lid. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh my Lord,” he said with giddy joy bubbling up in his chest.  “Thank ye, wee lassie.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He now held two gems in his hands. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Wonderful!” said Lady Jane, refilling the White Raven’s lid.  When the bird had her fill and flew off, and Lady Jane capped the flask and put it back in her coat. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Jamie rolled his left arm, pleased to have movement again, though his right arm was useless in its current state of pain. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Here,” said Lady Jane, “let me help set that back into place.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Ye can do such a thing?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Indeed, and you won’t even have to wait.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was a painful process, but relief settled in as soon as she forced his arm back in the socket. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I canna thank ye enough,” he said, as she helped him up to his feet. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She smiled warmly and rubbed his arms.  Unable to help himself, he wrapped his newly healed arms around her waist and pulled her in close.  He couldn’t believe the relief he felt at finally being able to embrace this woman in his arms.  To offer affection, comfort, and gratitude with physical touch.  He ran his hands up and down her back as he squeezed her tightly to his chest.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He desperately wished he could breathe in her scent.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Finally, he released her, taking her hand and walking out of the wood and over the rolling hills of heather.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh!  Look at these lovely forget-me-nots!” she squealed rushing forward to pick some flowers.  She bent over in front of him, displaying the roundest arse he’d ever seen. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Lovely,” he breathed. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Aren’t they?”  She stood up with golden light dancing in her eyes.  She handed him the flowers and said, “Take these with you on your date with destiny, Jamie, and promise not to forget your lessons in patience.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’ll remember, lass.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “And Jamie...forget me not, as well.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Forget you?  Never a chance.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She smiled and reached up on her toes to kiss him.  He closed his eyes and groaned when her hand dropped to his arse to give it a squeeze one last time. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The sounds of the White Raven floated on the breeze in the distance.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> When he opened his eyes, Lady Jane was gone...and he held not flowers in his hand, but a third amethyst gem. </em>
</p>
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